Some Nights
by the.perfect.hell
Summary: With the Alpha pack in town and murders becoming more intense than ever before, no one is safe in Beacon Hills. Now that the Sheriff missing and the police department is in chaos, Stiles feels more lost than he ever has before.
1. Prologue

So FYI this is meant to be stiles centric. However, for some reason I decided that the prologue should be in the Sheriff's POV.

**Some Nights**

_Some nights, I stay up cashing in my bad luck_

_Some nights, I call it a draw_

_Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle_

_Some nights, I wish they'd just fall off_

**Prologue. **

He thought last year was bad, what with all the murders and mysterious disappearances. It had been exhausting. His son had turned up at almost as many crime scenes as the murderer himself. For a second he had thought…

Well, it was Stiles. He didn't know what he thought. But he knew that even if there had been a pattern, even if his son had been lying, and getting into some legal trouble himself, he could never be mixed up in something so big.

But it was suspicious.

And if last year was bad, he didn't know what this was. This was… he was in over his head on this one. Ever since the beginning of summer, things had been getting crazy. They had finally found the murderer, a stupid kid who had no idea what he was getting himself into, and only a few weeks later more murders had started.

At first he had thought it was a copy-cat, as many of the murders appeared to be animal attacks. But than some of them weren't. Some of the victims were kids. Some adults. Some male, female. Black. White. Asian. It didn't seem to matter.

The way they were murdered was different too. Some had used weapons like a gun or knife, others appeared to be _claws._ There was even a poisoning up at the hospital in which several people were deathly ill and one who had a pre-disposed condition had actually died. It made no sense.

There was just no _pattern._

Some of the murders were instrumental and some were hostile. Sometimes organized and some disorganized. There had been an "undoing" of the crime with some victims, in which they had been arranged in such a way that the murderer could almost pretend they were just sitting there watching tv; as if they hadn't dragged them from the bathroom (where they had bashed the victim's head against the sink so hard it had killed them) into the living room and sat them up on the couch; as if it were perfectly natural. Other victims had been torn apart, their body practically a piece of art, leaving their signature behind in their skin.

The sheriff had long since brought in state police, hell, he'd even contacted the FBI, but it didn't seem to help much. The sheer amount of murders in the past few months left the sheriff wishing he hadn't taken the job. Made him seriously consider packing his son up and taking him somewhere safe, like Beacon Hills bad been just a few years before.

Every time he left for work he found himself praying he wouldn't find Stiles or Scott or one of their new friends tied up to a tree by their intestines. Every night (or day, really) he feared he'd come home to find his son bleeding at his desk, appearing to be doing homework.

It was quite obvious that the people doing these murders were just that, _people. _As in plural. As far as the sheriff was concerned, there were at least four of them, two of them being much _sicker_ than the others. Each victim was another master piece.

The sheriff almost yearned for a nice domestic, rather than the murders, which is funny, considering how much of a pain in the ass they used to be.

But he couldn't help but harboring a feeling of foreboding. Well, it was obvious something big was going down. But he couldn't help but think that he was getting just a little bit closer, like he was on the edge of a real breakthrough.

He sighed as he brought a hand up to his face, scrubbing at it with sleepy frustration. He looked at the clock. 1:48 A.M. If a breakthrough was going to happen soon it sure as hell wasn't going to be tonight. Not right now, at any rate. He slowly gathered up his folders (a manila folder for each alleged murderer. He had named each one in his head and did his best to figure out which murder belonged to which one. It was the only way he could make sense of any of this) as he stood up. He felt an overwhelming desire to call Stiles right now; just to be sure he was okay. God knows what that kid could get up to on his own, without his town being run by murderers and mountain lions. But it was 2 o'clock in the morning and it would just freak the boy out. Besides, it was his first day back at school tomorrow. _If_ his kid had miraculously done as he was told, and went to bed at a decent hour… well, then the Sheriff wasn't going to be the one to wake him.

Sooo… I haven't written anything in years. I'm sorry if I'm a bit rusty. But anyway, I hope you like the prologue. This generally won't happen, but as I'm still feeling the whole writing thing, I may post another chapter tonight or tomorrow afternoon. I hope you like it though, let me know!


	2. Alone

When Stile's alarm went off he woke up with a groan. His mind was all foggy and he couldn't think straight. All he knew is that it definitely should _not_ be time to wake up yet. Why did summer end so quickly? This so wasn't fair.

Grumbling slightly Stiles rolled over, shoving his head beneath his pillow. Just a few more minutes…

Stiles jumped at the sound of his phone ringing.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, knowing that it would be Scott before he even looked.

And yup. There was Scotts name all big and Scott-like, taking up his screen. "Fuck!" he yelled, scrambling out of bed. When did 5 minutes turn into 45? Being late on his first day back was just not acceptable. His dad was going to kill him.

And speaking of his dad, why hadn't he made sure he was awake? Damn it!

"Hey, buddy." Stiles answered his phone breathlessly, almost falling over as be pulled on a pair of jeans.

"Hi." Scott said, a slight miserable tone to his voice. He hated mornings. And school. "You're still picking me up, right?"

"Uh, yup. Running a bit late." Which was unusual for the boy. He was usually the peppy annoying morning person who was already down stairs and singing as he cooked breakfast for his dad, already showered and ready to go. Last night though Stiles had been out with Isaac and Scott, trying to figure out the alpha pack's motive. They'd been there for 2 months now, and they still didn't understand how to stop them or what they even wanted.

"Dude." Scott said, sounding somewhat amused, "It's the first day back."

"Is it? Wasn't aware. Say, you don't think you could keep me posted about these things? Like remind me in a few hours that it's still Monday or that we're Juniors now. Or you know, you could-"''

"Stiles, we're late enough as it is…"

The world felt backwards. Scott was the one who was supposed to be all nonchalant and 'oh, it's just school'. Where Stiles was supposed to be like 'but… SAT's This year Scott!'. As if the world wasn't backwards enough what with the werewolves and murders and maybe he should not forget to take his Adderall today.

"Uh. I'll be there in 10 minutes." Stiles said. Really, 10 minutes was pushing it. He hurriedly dressed, brushed his teeth, and got his book bag together. He vaguely noted the silence in the house as he rushed down the stairs. Normally his dad would be up, watching the news, or… doing whatever it was that dad's did in the mornings. The thought worried him for a moment, but his dad must have been out till at least four, for the boy had been asleep before his dad got home. And being that he was to be back at work at 9 am… well, of course he would still be asleep.

Pushing the worry from his thoughts, Stiles grabbed his pill bottle and downed a few pills, which may or may not have been more than the label actually prescribed, and hurriedly searched the cabinets for some pop tarts or breakfast bars. Coming across some weird marshmallow-y golden gram thing, he dubbed it good enough and stuffed it in his backpack for later, grabbed his keys, and was just starting his car when he received another text from Scott.

"Almost here?" it read. Stiles let out a little nervous laugh as he checked the time. Almost here. He hadn't even left yet.

He hadn't even realized until he was already reversed out of the driveway and ready to go, that his dad's cruiser wasn't even here.

_Weird. _Stiles thought as he began speeding his way to Scott's house. _Maybe he was called in early?_

By the time Stiles had reached Scott's house he had called his dad numerous times and never received the answer. As he sat in front of his best friend's house he called the receptionist. They don't change duty until 8, so they would know what time his dad had left and when he had returned (if he had, indeed, returned).

Unfortunately, that had not been the case.

"He left around 2 0'clock, Stiles. And he's not scheduled to return until 9."

"And he didn't come in early?" Stiles asked, voice higher than he had meant for it to be.

"… No. Did you try calling him? He probably went out for like eggs or something."

"Becca… You don't understand." Stiles explained as Scott crawled into the passenger side. "He would have woken me up first. It's like, what he does."

"Maybe he was tired and not thinking straight. He worked like 15 hours or something yesterday."

Scott began tapping on the clock to remind him that they were in a hurry and Stile sighed as he put the car into drive.

"But what if he fell asleep!? What if he was driving, and he fell asleep!?"

The receptionist sighed. "Go to school, Stiles. We'll have someone check his usual route home to see, but if he was in an accident, we'd probably know about it by now."

"Will you tell him to call me when he comes in? Or if you hear from him? Or will you have someone call me if he _was _in an accident? Or if you here _anything_. Or… if he doesn't show up for work? Or if he does?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Okay. Thanks." And with that, Stiles hung up.

"What happened with your dad?" Scott asked, a slightly concerned look on his face.

Stiles shrugged. "He never came home."

"I'm sure he's fine." Scott reassured.

"Except if he's not. Except if one of the alphas got him."

"If no one's seen him when we're out of school we'll go on our own hunt for him. We'll get the pack together and everything."

Stiles smiled at him. "Thanks."


	3. Oh, I'm Having Trouble Breathing

**Oh, I'm Having Trouble Breathing.**

_And what are we sleeping for_

when we've got nothing to dream for...

So where are we looking to, When inside empty rooms

Will you believe the invisible

**Chapter 2**.

Stiles sped into the parking lot, not even bothering to lift his foot off the gas until he was just about to pull into the spot he needed (which of course, was on the side farthest from the school, being that everywhere else was full) and stopped the car with a jerk. He didn't particularly care that he was crooked and partially into another spot.

"I can't believe we're late for school on the first day." Scott said. "My mom's never going to write me an excuse for this."

"Sure she will. Just say, 'But mom, a big angry werewolf slashed stiles tires again."

"She'll wonder why you didn't tell me with enough time to catch the bus. And how you fixed it in time."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Really? Have you no imagination at all? A) I was running late and didn't know within enough time. This is, in fact, true. And B) I stole a tire from my dad's cruiser… or SUV. Definitely SUV. When she finds out my dads- I mean, in case he's- you know..." Stiles said, trailing off. He couldn't bring himself to voice the images that his mind came up with.

"He'll be fine Stiles. I'll make sure of it." His said, eyes flashing an angry yellow, though Stiles wasn't sure yellow could be angry. More like hungry. Like how McDonalds always has red and yellow. It's a trick to make you think you're hungrier than you actually are. Like ketchup and mustard. Scot doesn't look hungry per say. More like protective. So the only option was to settle with a hungry protectiveness. Either way, Stiles looked around nervously.

"Dude!" He hissed as they entered the building. "Change your eyes back before we get to the office!"

"Ugh! The office! This is not how I wanted to start of m Year Of Redemption!"

"At least you don't have Snape for Home Room." The human complained. "And you're names not Harry Potter."

"Yours isn't either, _Stiles_."

"In this particular analogy it is, Draco."

"Hey! Why do I have to be the enemy?!" Scott Exclaimed.

Stiles didn't have time to respond, as they had just walked into the office, the secretary looking at them expectantly.

"Well!" Harris said, almost joyfully, as Stiles finally made it to homeroom. "Look who finally decided to show up!"

"Yeah." The boy said, matching his tone to his teachers, mockingly. "Felt like a bit of a… lie in, if you know what I mean."

A few people laughed. Harris glared.

"Here you go!" Stiles grinned as he handed him the late slip.

Harris eyes narrowed and he looked ready to respond but the bell rang before he could. Stiles did not hesitate in his retreat from the room; however he only managed a few steps before a voice called to him. He stopped. Lyida.

"Hey!" She said.

Hey… _Hey!?_ She was talking to him like they were friends or something.

"Have you seen Allison?" She asked. "I thought she was supposed to be in our homeroom. "

Oh. Right.

"No, I-" But then his phone rang and all was forgotten, because- his dad.

"You should probs put that on silent." Lydia said as he hurriedly reached for it.

_Beacon Hills Police Department_

"Hello?" He said just as Lydiashrieked loudly with Allison and hugged each other as if they hadn't been at the same pack meeting the night before(they weren't a pack in the strictest sense of the meaning, considering that Scott refused Derek, half of Dereks pack left, and the rest were humans and Isaac. Mostly it was just Stiles headcanon, really). There was sound coming from the end, but the kid couldn't hear. He glared irritatingly at the two banshees beside him, before turning his back to them and using his finger to plug his ear from as much sound as possible.

"What was that?" Stiles asked, louder than necessary. He was glad when the two oblivious girls headed off to whichever class they had.

"Stiles? It's Tom." He didn't need to say 'Tom from the police station.' Or 'Tom, your father's partner.' They had been partners for as long as Stiles could remember. His wife even used to look after him right after his mom died. He'd went on a few camping trips with them as well (though that was more for Stiles' dad sake than for love of the sport).

"Any news?"

Tom signed and the boy's heart skipped a beat.

"Not good news, I'm afraid."

_Oh God._

"But not _terrible _news either. His cruiser was spotted in the preserves… we don't know why he was there. He was off duty. There weren't any dispatches. And there weren't any calls on his cellphone either… Do you have any idea why he would have gone?"

Stiles ignored his question in favor of asking one of his own.

"Is he okay?" He held his breath, already knowing what Tom would say. He was dead. Clawed; looked like an animal. Blood splattered everywhere. Symbol drawn on his windshield in blood. He stood no chance. Killed instantly- or maybe slowly, but he wasn't sure Tom would tell Stiles that detail. Since he _knew _this scenario had to be true- made no sense not to- Stiles was shocked when this wasn't the scene Tom described.

"He's not here. He's not here, Stiles. His car door was open, so he was probably distracted in a hurry. But he's not here. There's no blood- no sign of a struggle- not much to go on at all, really. I have to go. We need to look around more. Do you need us to send someone over to the school?"

"No, no. I'm good. Just- Just keep me posted, okay?"

"Sure thing, Stiles."

Stiles hung up and leaned against the wall. The halls were nearly empty now. A few stragglers were hurrying off to their classes, glancing curiously at him on their way.

Missing. His father was missing.

Normally the police wouldn't have called him so fast. Normally they wouldn't be investigating already. But this was the sheriff and a Beacon Hills Police Department vehicle had been abandoned. And the deaths and obviously something was amiss.. And sometimes being a cop had its perks. Like taking things seriously pretty damn quickly. Fuck 24 hours when you were an officer of the law. You had people looking out for your back.

But did it matter if it was the wrong people? They didn't know a thing about werewolves and alphas. Stiles should have put some sort of precaution in place to protect his father. He should have given him some sort of _something. _Something mystical to protect him from werewolves and shape shifters.

He should have given him the protection of knowledge. He should have told his father about this the night he and Scott had found out he was bit… or, at the very least, the moment they realized there were hunters and that this life was kind of dangerous.

He should have told him about the alphas.

Stiles slid down against the locker, face dry, but paler than usual. He could feel his heart thumping against his chest, so hard and so fast. He felt the panic take hold of his insides and settling at the bottom of his stomach, gripping at heart, twist his intestines up, and finally restricting the constriction of his lungs. He raised shaking hands to his heart, gasping for air.

He couldn't breathe. His dad had been kidnapped by the alpha pack. He didn't know what they wanted or how to find them, but he knew the pack was the one responsible for this. It's the only thing that made sense. The same alpha pack that had yet to leave a single victim alive. What were the chances of… If it had been his dad that was here and a stranger who had disappeared he would have said that the probability of being found alive was slim to none. They'd probably use him for whatever they needed and then kill him. They could even be torturing him in the meantime.

_Fuck._

_Okay, so I know that I haven't written in a long time, and my chapters haven't been too long. I apologize. Work has been kind of crazy lately between my two jobs and I pretty much sleep when I go home. However, I am working a double (16 hrs) at the shelter tomorrow. I'm almost positive that ill be able to write a good portion of it there, so expect a quick update!_

_Let me know what you think. What you like and don't like!_

_Also, someone had asked me if this was going to be sterek. I don't particularly like ruining what's going to happen, but I may as well let you know so that you don't regret starting this later. This is not going to be sterek. There will be some romance with another character (Stanny? Diles?), but that won't be the main point of the story. _


End file.
